


You and I (Both Loved)

by DeathjunkE



Series: The Gift of Grace [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Best friends with benifits, Bfwb, Bondage, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kink, Spanking, Sporadic Updates, end game is not Rhonda/Dean, highschool romance, sometimes full on porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The future lay sparkling ahead, and we thought we would know each other forever."<br/>-Sleepers (1996)</p><p>Rhonda Hurley and Dean Winchester were good friends. Sometimes they played at being more than that every once in a while. They that like all things in life that this too was temporary, and so they made the most of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soft

**Author's Note:**

> This has not been beta read.  
> This series is on going and i am in the process of writing the stories. However this is my last year of college and so, my time is super limited. please be patient.
> 
> This is not part 2 of At Last His Grace.  
> This is more or Dean/Rhonda because I waned them to have more time together (and lay the ground work for a later story).

Dean wasn't much used to softness. He lived in a car with his dad and brother. There was not much of anything soft in his life. But Rhonda was soft.

Every last thing about her, from her birdsnest hair and low gravelly voice to her fleshy thighs and her hot tight cunt— She was soft, welcoming and almost never gentle.

But that was just fine. Dean had no real need for gentle, he relished it when she showed her tender secret self, he liked being the one she let her guard down for, but usually that came after she had been demanding and perhaps a touch cruel. Rhonda loved to tease him with her rope, cane and her casual mastery of his body. She knew just how go caress him, how tight the ropes needed to be depending on his mood and how thoroughly she wanted to use him.

Dean lay blissfully in the dark of the Hurley's basement in Rhonda's bed, his head pillowed on her thigh as she kneaded and massaged the muscles that Dean knew would be stiff the next day if he didn't shower before he went to bed.

There wasn’t a real need for conversation at this point. There was nothing he needed to say and Rhonda was busy humming along to a Pearl Jam song that was playing on the radio. Dean winced as Rhonda worked a cramp out of his forearm, but he stayed quiet and mostly still. 

She didn't let up until the muscle in her grasp gave in and relaxed under her steady hand. When the pain subsided she pressed her lips to the muscle and continued on to rolling and rubbing dean's palms. The eucalyptus massage balm smelled weird but did its job, penetrating the callouses left by years of handling shovels and guns. Rhonda worked methodically on each and every one of Dean's limbs before she started in on his neck and shoulders. 

Dean lay there in the dimly lit basement on Rhonda’s hedonistic nest of pillows and down comforters with her soft and unyielding touch and for the first time in a long time he let himself fully relax, unconcerned about anything other than the heaviness of his limbs and eyelids.


	2. Empty your hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read. you've been warned

Tomorrow was supposed to be special. It was Dean’s birthday. According to Dean his dad was away again and his brother had soccer practice after school. There were no plans to celebrate and so Rhonda had made her own plans. Being a latchkey-kid had its advantages and the time that she had to plan and carry out scenes was certainly one of them.

All in all she felt kind of stupid preparing something big like this. They weren’t dating, not really, Dean's father would move them when he got his next work assignment and Dean would leave, but it seemed important to celebrate. Dean didn’t seem to care about his own birthday, but Rhonda wasn’t used to birthdays passing by quietly. Dean wasn’t her boyfriend, but they were good friends who talked to each other all the time, scene and play with each other, and on occasion fucked each other too. But here she was getting ready for tomorrow like the most attentive of girlfriends. She had prepped the food she’d be cooking as well. The steaks were sitting in a tupperware in the refrigerator already seasoned, the peas had been shelled and were sitting in a bowl under a damp towel, scrubbed and seasoned potatoes were wrapped in aluminum foil and made from scratch apple blackberry pie was also refrigerated and ready to be put in the oven. 

Rhonda rolled her shoulders and surveyed items on her bed. A brand new pair of red panties, a lacy black demibra, jezebel red lip stick and matching nail polish, a black garter belt and matching lace thigh high stockings. She grinned knowing she’d be wearing almost everything tomorrow. Rhonda crouched down to dig through her chest of rope. She had a proverbial rainbow of colors to choose from. Her fingers touched red, then blue, then the toyed with the corner of the bag of bright bubblegum pink before finally settling on the glass bottle green set of rope she had dyed just to match his eyes. 

Stood up looked in her mirror and sighed. She wished she was pretty like the other girls she went to school with. There was nothing special about her at all. She was plain brown; her hair was thick and curly brown mess that touched her shoulder blades when she let it loose, her skin was brown and her eyes were a dark boring brown as well. She wasn’t shapeless but she wasn’t shapely either. Her hips were wider than the rest of her body, her stomach was soft and pudgy, the excess fat gathering in a roll around her waist and her breasts that should be perky with youth hung there, unappealing and uninteresting. Her features were soft and neutral, there was nothing eye catching or lovely about her she was plain, adding to her total lack of appeal was her usual style of dress. She never cared for the flashy dresses and ornate studded pants most Dom's wore. She preferred to dress casually in her jeans and sweaters. Besides clothing could only enhance what you had naturally and she wasn't pretty-- the kids she went to school with made sure she damn well knew it.

Rhonda snorted at her reflection and snatched the nail polish off of the bed. That was something else she could do tonight with out worrying. Carefully she painted her toes red and then her fingers. 

(-)

 

"Woah! Who're you impressing today Ron?"

"Who says I'm impressing anyone? Can't a girl dress nice every once in a while?" She grumbled as she lowered her ass into the impala's passenger seat. She watched Dean watch her as she kept her thighs pressed together as she pulled her legs into the car. The movement was uncharacteristically feminine of her, and she knew it. 

"I didn't even know you owned a dress!" Dean chuckled as he pulled away from the curb. "let alone one so..." Dean wiggled his eyebrows and Rhonda pulled at the short black fabric of her skirt.

It wasn't anything exotic or all that flashy. Just a black pencil skirt with a fitted black blouse. She had wrapped a long red satin scarf around her waist to break up the black and make it look like she was wearing a dress and paired the while look with red pumps and glittering bracelets.

"Yeah, well..." Rhonda shrugged and pushed her hair away from her face, "Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"You got plans to celebrate later?"

"No,"

"Good. Meet me at the doors when the lunch bell rings. I've got plans." Rhonda said as she flipped through her notebook

"Don't tell me you got all dolled up for me?" Dean leered at her appreciatively a slow smirk spreading over his lips. 

"Shut up and drive, asshole..." The girl grunted and turned her full attention to her biology notes.

"That's really sweet, Ron." Rhonda stiffened when she felt Dean's rough callused fingers pull her hand away from the notebook she was too embarrassed to look away from and laced their fingers together. "Really Ronnie, you're the greatest."

Rhonda refused to look up, her skin was dark enough that no one could tell whether she was blushing or not but her face felt like it was on fire, and why take the chance.

When they got to school Dean got out of the car first, raced around to the passenger side door and pulled it open. He paused to help Rhonda out of the car, going down on one knee besides the door in the traditional way, so that Rhonda could either offer her hand to Dean, who would pull her from the car, or She could place a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she exited the car on her own. Usually how the person got out of the car was determined by Dynamic, subs offered their hands and Doms exited on their own. It was an old gesture, rarely used by those who followed the old protocol. A gesture like that was done in the movies but rarely ever in real life. 

Dean had always thought that it was over the top and cheesy but some how here with Rhonda, in the corner of the school parking lot it seemed appropriate. There were whispers surrounding them, but Dean didn't even try to listen to them.

As with all things Rhonda was unconventional. She twisted her hips in the seat, keeping her legs together and putting her feet on the floor of the parking lot. As she hauled her self up she took Dean's hand and pulled him to his feet. Dean closed the door of the Impala, shouldered his back pack and they walked through the crowds of milling students parting at their lockers to begin the day.

Rhonda fell into step with Dean as he walked down the hall, her heels clicking abruptly with the rhythm of her stride. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and glowered at a group of chattering subs. “They talk about you a lot, you know.”

“Who does?” Dean asked, his lips curved into his usual smirk.

“The everyone at that fucking prison of a school.” Rhonda picked up her pace and got to the classroom door before Dean did and held it open for him. “You shouldn’t have done that this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it Ron. That’s what happens when you’re the new kid. I’ve been to so many schools already that I’m used to it. It’s the same everywhere. Don’t go getting worked up over it.”

“People should just mind their own fucking business.”

“But they don’t, and they never will. Don’t get bothered n my account, I couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah, alright.” she grunted as hip checked him as they made their way to their seats.

(-)

Dean shivered in anticipation. He never quite knew what to expect with Rhonda, but so far she had yet to lead him astray. The first time they played, she had wrapped him in her ropes and sat on the floor with him, petting and praising until he was blessed out and feeling safer than he had since he was four years old. 

From that moment on every moment that it was just they played at being more than just friends or fuck buddies. They didn’t put a name to it, and that was purposeful. This was temporary, Dean had made sure she knew— his dad traveled for work and it was only a matter of time before they moved again.

Rhonda didn’t mind it much. She was one of the few people he knew who could swallow that reality and not dwell on it. “Let’s make the most of the time we have then yeah?” She said when they were lying on their backs, sweaty, panting and fucked out behind the bleachers.

It was the first time in years that Dean bothered wishing that he could stay. That Dad would let them settle down in Arizona and hunt locally. It wouldn’t happen, and he knew better than to ask, but that didn’t mean he didn’t secretly wish that e could stay here in this town with the girl who let him be himself and never judged him for it.

“Here we go.” Rhonda chirruped after sorting through one of her dresser draws. She pulled out a pair of panties. They were baby pink boy short cut panties, made of super soft cotton and fussy white lace. “Put these on for me.”

“You’re joking right?”

“Was I joking the last time?” Rhonda asked with an arched brow. Dean pursed his lips and took the panties from her hand. They were soft and they would have looked pretty on a girl, any girl really but especially Rhonda with her brown skin. “Go on, Darling. Get a move on before I decide to help you.”

Dean sighed and fingered the waistband of the panties. He didn’t want to put them on here in front of her but he did. He delicately stepped into the undergarment and pulled it up along his legs slowly with trembling fingers. It was so smooth and silky that he couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation. Dean tugged them up over his ass and then pressed his cock close to his belly as he arranged himself with in the confines of the fabric.

Dean kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he felt his ears, face and chest grow hot and red with embarrassment. Every time Rhonda pulled a pair of panties out of her draw for him it was the same. He’d slip them on reluctantly and immediately his cock would fill and make the panties bulge, some time it even dribbled and wet the fabric. 

It was so embarrassing the way she could easily see how much he enjoyed the panties.

“Hey there Gorgeous. Let me see those eyes.” Rhonda cooed, coming closer to Dean, stepping into his personal space and cradling his face in the palm of her right hand. When Dean didn’t look up on his own she tilted his head back until he had no choice but to look at her. 

Dean felt his blush deepen as she pressed against him, her free hand rubbing his cock through the fabric of the panties. It was obvious how hard he was with just the stupidly simple lace panties for stimulation, and the fact that she knew made his eyes sting and itch.

“Aw, lovely don’t cry.” Rhonda soothed, her voice unusually soft.

Unable to resist Dean blinked and smirked at the opportunity he couldn’t help but take. “It’s my birthday. I can cry if I want too.”

Rhonda laughed uproariously, a deep belly laugh that made her snort and cover her mouth and nose with both hands. Dean grinned and wiped his cheeks off. The tension had dissipated and the gut wrenching feeling of mortification eased down to light embarrassment. 

“Don’t cry yet, Dean. I’ve got plans!” With out further ado she led him by the hand to her bed and sat him down. “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.”

Dean did as she asked —he always did— and he flinched a bit as he felt her going over his eye lids with something or another. There was a strange pulling sensation followed by a gentle sweeping. It felt odd but so did many things.

“Don’t open your eyes yet. Part your lips.” 

She smeared what felt like lip balm on his lips casually using her finger and not the stick itself. It slipped across his mouth easily and he could smell the faint chemical smell of artificial cherry.

“Well I always knew you were pretty… but goddamn…” Rhonda pulled back and Dean felt her stand up and step away. “Don’t open your eyes yet.” There was a scraping sound, a few grunts and two clicks before the bed dipped behind him with her weight. “Okay Darlin’, you can open up now”.

Dean opened his eyes and was immediately confronted with the image of himself. Rhonda had pushed her full-length mirror in front of him. After meeting the eyes of his reflection Dean ducked his head and averted his eyes to the floor.

“None of that, Stand up.” When Dean Didn’t comply Rhonda slapped his thigh, brisk and hard. “Up, Dean.”

Dean flowed to his feet and kept his eyes on the ground. But like always, Rhonda got her way. She gripped the longer hair to the back of his head and tugged his head up and watched him in the mirror until he met her eyes in the glass. “Look at yourself. Look how pretty you are, just for me.”

“I’m not a girl Ron. I didn’t need the make up.”

“I know you’re not a girl, but I’m gonna fuck you deep and hard like most girls like it. It’s gonna feel so good that you’re gonna cry. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Rhonda cajoled and bit firmly at Dean’s neck wrapping her free arm around him from behind when he hissed and his knees trembled. “Get on the bed. Hands and knees face the mirror.”

Dean, eager to please, scrambled onto the bed and took his position. In the mirror he carefully watched Rhonda instead of himself, and was surprised to realize that when his eyes were closed she had fished out her strap on. 

Dean kept his gaze on her bright purple cock, watching eagerly and nervously as she lubed it up. It wouldn’t be the first time she put something in his ass. Usually she filled him with plugs before they went for walks or lunch or to the movies and once or twice she made him ride a dildo as she watched, thighs clenching and rubbing as her arousal grew.

“Like it?” She asked, meeting his eyes in the mirror once more. “It’s no where near as impressive as you are, but a girl’s gotta work with what she’s got yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dean licked his lips, and pulled a face at the taste of the gloss.

“It only smells like cherry.” Rhonda said as put a steadying hand on his hip and tugged his panties aside with the other.

Dean flushed and looked down at his hands. She wasn’t going to pull them down or rip them off or anything, she was just going to fuck him like a he was an easy and sure lay in the janitor’s closet. It was so embarrassing, but Dean had to take a deep breath to not rut against the air.

“Look at that blush! I didn’t know you could be so red.” 

Dean heard the smirk on Rhonda’s voice as she teased him, he didn’t want to look at it too, but when she smacked his ass twice —hard— he took the hint and picked his head up to look at the mirror once more. Dean’s eyes looked around the mirror frantically as he felt her ease her long slender slippery fingers into him, wanting to look at anything but himself in such a compromising position. 

“Look at that pretty boy, on my fingers. Do you know him?”

Dean gasped as he felt the two fingers nudge up against his prostate, the pressure of it feeling so good and so right that he couldn’t help but buck his hips back in an attempt to get more of the feeling. 

“You’re not looking. Look at my pretty boy.” Rhonda encouraged as she added a third finger to the mix and making Dean’s mouth drop open and his eyes flutter. “If you’re not going to take the time to appreciate him then maybe I should just stop.”

When Rhonda stilled her fingers Dean sobbed and tried to push back on them but was only deterred by a sharp and painful slap to the thigh. It felt so good why would she stop!

“Go on and look at that lovely darling in the mirror. Tell me about him.”

“Rhonda please—”

“No. Do as I say.”

Dean took a shuddering breath and looked directly at himself in the mirror. He was surprised to see that he didn’t actually have on any make up except for the cherry lip balm. It was a mind fuck, her running over his eyelids with a clean make up brush to make him think she’d done him up. “He’s got freckles.”

“I know! Aren’t they great.” She ran her lube free hand down his back, her palm large dry and warm— a comfort. “They’re everywhere. On his back, on his perky little ass, even on his toes.”

Dean felt the heat in his face as Rhonda pressed closer to him, her fingers moving just a bit. 

“Tell me more about this boy… I’m very curious.”

“You have eyes don’t you.”

That warm hand on his back was in his hair and pulling him up onto his knees and bowing his back until Dean was forced to lean against Rhonda to keep his balance. With her face next to his she gave him a bland look and asked, “Do you want me to paddle your ass on your birthday instead of fucking it?”

“No, Ma’am.” He muttered mortified that she’d even had to reprimand him, let alone threaten to paddle his ass for him.

“Then you better start coopering quick.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Rhonda withdrew her fingers entirely and circled them around her silicone cock, carefully lining up the bulbous head of it with Dean’s wanton pulsing hole. “Good, now take a look in that mirror and tell me, how hot that boy who is about to be on my cock is.” 

“I don’t know.” Dean whiled and tried to push back, wanting to be filled again and feeling that stretch and pressure once more.”

“I’ll make it easy for you. Tell me what makes him so pretty?”

“Please, I don’t know… I don’t know! My eyes?”

“Yes. You’ve got lovely eyes. They’re so green and so kind. You’re very observant Dean, and unlike other people you don’t use it to be cruel. I know how you help people. You see that they need help and you offer it, with out asking for anything in return. You’ve got kind eyes.”

Dean blamed his tears on the stretch of Rhonda’s cock entering him and inching past this rings of interior muscles and nerves.

“Go on, tell me more.”

Dean scrambled to think of the things he’d heard the people in the seedy motels and bars he’s been in with his dad say about him. They thought he was pretty too. “My mouth— my mouth. Cock sucking lips.”

“Yes your mouth, it’s very nice. You’re honest in your own way, you say what you think, you don’t give a damn if it’s against what other people say, or do, or feel, because if you know something isn’t right you’ll call them out on it. It’s a good trait for a mouth. A very good use of a mouth far better than cock sucking, though I will say you’re a smart ass, and I’ve come to appreciate that.”

Dean’s eyes were trained on his reflection and he watched as his tears dribbled down his cheeks and dripped off of his chin. He looked at his body, hard pressed to find something else that Rhonda couldn’t twist into her romanticized version of him. “Muscles?”

“Well yeah, you’re definitely fit.” Rhonda muttered between nibbling on his ear lobe and shallowly pumping her hips until bit-by-bit she bottomed out into dean’s ass, pressing her body flush against his. “I do like that aesthetically, but it also it lets me know that I can trust you. All that strength— all that agility and you’ve never ever tried to hurt me. I feel safe with you. I’d be a fool not to.”

And that was the end of Dean’s rope— he started crying right then, ugly heaving sobs and tears. Rhonda pressed her body against his back and bent him forward until his shoulders were on the bed, arms cradling his head and ass high in the air as she slowly and sweetly fucking and grinding into him— her body covering his own and whispering praises into his ear.

When Dean had come it was with a hoarse barely there shout and endless sobbing.

Rhonda eased her cock out of Dean and stepped away from the bed to her attached bathroom where she made short work of undoing the harness and dropping the dildo into a basin of sudsy water she had prepped before wetting down two was cloths and tucking a box of tissues under her arm.

She approached the bed and dean’s limp sobbing body like she did everything else, with false bravado and a firm hand. With out saying a word she used one of the hot cloths to wipe his face free of tears, she trained it down his neck, his back, over his cock and balls and used it to wipe away the lube from his crac before tossing it aside.

“Roll over for me, babe.” Rhonda prompted. When dean complied she used the fresh cloth to wipe the cum from his belly and loosened the comforter. “Come get in the bed, I’m going to want to get under the covers once I wipe myself down too.”

Dean nodded, still feeling the after effects of their scene but going willingly. Dean curled into himself under the dove gray comforter and pressed his face into one of the obscenely fluffy pillows. 

He was asleep before Rhonda could even turn around.


End file.
